


Such A Simple Thing

by gatesgates



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Graphic Description, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Someone Help Will Graham, Unstable Will, someone as goof as Will, you're both awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 02:10:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16317149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatesgates/pseuds/gatesgates
Summary: You simply met someone who gets you, who feels you - and you’re almost sure you feel him too. And you haven’t even properly talked yet.





	Such A Simple Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This actually something I don’t actually know if I’ll continue. I have another work in progress, which I’m currently focused on and this one, I have to say, is written under a sudden inflow of inspiration. I finished Hannibal some time ago, but the chapter is based on an actual situation that happened to me at work. Believe it or not, lads - I’m a cashier in TJMaxx, and I’ve met a guy, who looked literally like Will Graham. Under those circumstances, of course, an idea for a fanfic hit me, so here it is - I hope you’ll like it, and I’m looking forward to see if, according to your feedback, I should write a continuation for it (got some ideas in the back of my head), or leave it as a one-shot.

     The tiredness was eating me from the inside. It was one of those days I could feel my guts shrink until they were so small and pathetic I could feel them wiggle from side to side with each taken step. One of those days that were bestowing my eyes with deep, dark circles, seemingly breaking through the layer of makeup. Days, after which all I wished for, was to feel nothing and be simply numb.

     But that’s just the way it is, right? I chose to work in an oversized store with a ridiculous amount of weekend shopping maniacs, whose dreams come true scenario was presented as five hours spent in between countless rows of clothes - clothes, it has to be said, definitely too expensive for a quality they were offering. I was being paid for serving and helping those maniacs, I shouldn’t feel like this. You sign on as a dog, you bark, simple as that.

     Yet still, I felt my weak knees bend under the weight of the day as I was walking - for the millionth time in the past hour - to the place before which I could see a giant line forming, curling and wiggling like a snake. My _favorite_ place on the whole planet.

     In a few quick, energetic and painful steps I evaded over twenty people. The look on most of their faces was pretty neutral, but I seriously couldn’t help the feeling that as soon as they were noticing the badge with a name on my chest, calm, yet irritated expressions were immediately changing into something ruthless and feral - something, that was silently shouting at me with nothing, but hate, venom. ‘Come here, you stupid bitch, I’m spending my money so you can maintain yourself. Better move your ugly, fat ass and serve me, as soon as possible, or I’ll make you suffer like you’ve never suffered before’, their cold, dull eyes spoke, so loud I could almost hear their voices. I tried not to catch any glances, as I thought the eye contact would kill me, and as fast as fingers were allowing me, I logged into the cash register’s system.

     "Next, please!" The sweet voice shouting the sentence over people’s bustle had nothing to do with me - neither did the fake smile, which was coming along with that voice. Yet still, as the next client stepped in front of me, with a handful of colorful shirts, I continued, feeling almost like a ghost, standing next to a moving bag of meat, knowing he can control the bag, but having no purpose in doing so. "Good morning, sir, I’m glad you managed to find something for yourself. Do you want me to count in a bag for you?"

     A silent grunt of an agreement was all my moving bag of meat got as an answer. My ghost, still standing idly next to it, immediately thought of how unfair it was - does the small talk ever killed somebody? Shit, dude, you’re allowed to use words. At least say ‘yes’. At least look at me. Don’t treat me like I was a robot. Please.

     The face of the bag of meat didn’t show any of those thoughts, still smiling. It had to keep everything going.

     "Great, I’ll pack everything up for you, sir. Shirts are looking good, by the way, I hope you’ll be happy wearing them. In case you’ll be disappointed, which I hope you won’t, our policies are entitling you to return unused products in twenty-eight days from the buying date." Hands were moving almost automatically, swiping tags under the scanner, folding disgusting, stinking shirts and gently putting them in a red, plastic bag. "It’ll be one hundred twenty dollars, sir. Do you want to pay by cash or card?"

     This time he didn’t even give me a grunt, as he silently pushed his credit card into a terminal. The bag of meat and the ghost became one for just a brief second, as I felt smile leaving my face. The man was fat, covered in shining drops of sweat, and currently interested in typing in his pin code. As he did so, his massive forehead was wrinkling intensely, creating shiny, pink folds - making his bald globe look like a pig’s backside.

     Gross.

     Terminal gave out a little sound, informing about payment confirmation, and brutally separating my soul and body from themselves with that. I gave the man a lovely grin while handing him his bag and a receipt.

     "Thank you for your purchase, sir, have a nice day. Goodbye!"

     He didn’t answer, repaying with the sight of his wide back. At first, I’ve heard a silly "this is not fair!" in the back of my head, but later on, I couldn’t care less - since I didn’t get an awaited answer for the next two hours. Two hours spent on one-sided small talks and nervous, fake smiles.

     Until after two hours and sixteen minutes, something went odd.

     "Good morning, sir, I’m glad you managed to find something for yourself, or your puppy, as I can assume. Do you want me to count in a bag for you?" I recited, distant and sweet voice making me feel sick. My next torturer was buying a few dog toys, two balls, one plushy giraffe and three teethers, which I scanned in a flash and as I did so, my thoughts went to the lonely, fluffy dog, waiting for me in the dark of an obscure apartment. To my lovely, lonely pup, my only friend and my peace of mind - being now hurt and longing. Because I was here, and she was there. How is this even fair?

     "No, thank you." A silent, calm voice said.

     For the first time today, I didn’t know what to say. Reality around me bent under the weight of events, causing something similar to a computer error. I’ve had questions, I lost my rhythm, I felt stupid and childish - why? Who even am I, a bag of meat, a ghost, maybe both of them, but what if none of them? Why did he answer, am I here?

     Am I visible? Am I actually heard? Am I not a robot?

     It’s almost astonishing, how our world worked, making theoretically normal behaviors so unusual, breathtaking and nearly magical.

     I looked up, fake smile still plastered to my face, but this time, I swear to God, less fake than ever. The man, handsome man, was standing in front of a cash register, a little taller than me, and definitely well built - I could tell that, even though his crooked, unsure posture made him appear smaller. Lush, dark locks were falling on his forehead, settling on top of an old-fashioned, thin glasses’ frame. A strong jawline and wise, pale eyes were giving him the look of a pissed-off version of Harry Potter, and just to complete this weird impression, the corners of his mouth twitched, in an inefficient attempt to smirk. Was he really an owner of such a pleasant voice?

     "Of… Of course, sir." I started slowly. The situation was weird, because what am I supposed to tell the person, who might be actually listening to what my tongue - just a piece of meat - decides to utter? "Looks like your dog is gonna be very, very happy tonight." Was I, all of the sudden, awkward? "It’ll be fifty-three dollars. Do you… Wanna pay by cash or card?"

     "Seven of them, actually." He answered, so quietly I could barely hear him over the hubbub. "I mean, dogs. Cash, please."

     The man handed me a few banknotes, and I couldn’t help, but notice how warm and soft his palm was. What a stupid, human senses, I most definitely didn’t want to admit that fact, I thought. What I was really looking forward to, on the other hand, was a decision to give his features another glance. As I did so, it turned out he was giving me one too. With that, something wasn’t right. Something was odd, different - probably because it was me, who was staring at him. It wasn’t the soulless bag of meat I was observing from behind. Body and soul, together, giving him a normal, natural smile and tired stare. As strange as it might sound, I knew that he knew, all of this, and how abnormal it seemed in our situation. He was giving me the same smile, the same stare. He felt me, and all of the sudden, I felt him - traumatized and scared, overwhelmed by the number of people and noise they were making.

     Like some kind of weird machines, making a wireless connection, after finding compatibility by a complete accident. Later on, of course, I’ll realize the thought of that was actually true - for that moment, however, the whole situation was just strange, but in some ways pleasant.

     "Here’s your change, sir." I said, breaking an awkward silence, handing him coins. I had to clear my throat. "Thank you very much for choosing our store. Have a nice day."

     "Thanks. You too." Those were the last words I’ve heard, and as I saw him turn around and leave, I felt like my soul separated from the body almost immediately. What a shame it was, I couldn’t feel this way more often. "Next, please! Good morning, miss, I’m glad you managed to find something for yourself. Do you want me to count in a bag for you?" Time to get back to reality. Whatever it was, it’s gone.

     Later that day, after - as always - having some trouble with falling asleep, I dreamt about pale, blue eyes, dark locks, and soft hands. I’ve dreamt about calming voice, fluffy dogs and… About antlers, a man with antlers. But in the morning, of course, I couldn’t remember any of these. Only an obnoxious, bitter taste of anxiety the dream left in my throat.


End file.
